The prince leans to the girl in scarlet heels,
Her green eyes slant, hair flaring in a fan
Of silver as the rondo slows; now reels
Begin on tilted violins to span

The whole revolving tall glass palace hall
Where guests slide gliding into light like wine;
Rose candles flicker on the lilac wall
Reflecting in a million flagons' shine,

And glided couples all in whirling trance
Follow holiday revel begun long since,
Until near twelve the strange girl all at once
Guilt-stricken halts, pales, clings to the prince

As amid the hectic music and cocktail talk
She hears the caustic ticking of the clock.

by Sylvia Plath

Other poems of PLATH (249)

Comments (6)

Pain hurts, doesen't it?
Graham - How well I understand, and how well you put it into words......Love it! Linda
beautiful poem, .. keep up the good work. x
Another lovely flowing poem, a lovely read as well. I loved it very much. Love Ernestine XXX Just thought I would mention that 'epitath' needs to be corrected to 'epitaph'. You can eidt it on the edit your poems page. Hope you don't mind me mentioning this. Love E.
I liked this very much Graham....I think you've described this feeling that most of us have experienced beautifully. Sincerely, Mary
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